A Bad Beginning
by Robert Cora Fan
Summary: "Have I made you happy?" "Yes. That is, since you fell in love with me, which if I remember correctly was about a year after we married." "Not a year. Not as long as that." The story of how Robert and Cora fell in love.
1. Chapter 1

_**"Robert...got pushed into this marriage. As he has come to know himself he has become nicer."**_

_**-Julian Fellowes in **_**The World of Downton Abbey**

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><p><strong>April 1889<strong>

_"I, Robert Albert Edward, take thee, Cora Mary, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse: for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth."_

Lord Robert Crawley's voice echoed in the vast New York church. Despite the assurance in his voice, he was less than certain of what he was doing. This was not how he imagined his wedding day - the only person he really knew was the best man, his cousin James.

He had first met his bride in last year's London season. She had stood out at once. It wasn't just her foreign accent. Her dress and grooming was just a little too fashionable, her conversation and manner just a little too confident. Of course, she was still invited to all the major events that season. No host could resist the sheer glamour and wealth that Americans could bring.

She had singled him out from the swarm of suitors, treating him to that dazzling smile and effortless charm. He was flattered by her seemingly genuine interest, but still felt awkward and ill-at-ease in her company. He couldn't escape the thought that she was not interested in him personally - he had undoubtedly been selected following a trawl through _The Titled American _or _Burke's Peerage. _

His father (after making the usual enquiries into family finances and assets) had been delighted. He had swiftly packed his son off on a ship bound for America, tasked with 'saving the ancestral estates.' Once on American soil, Robert had dutifully proposed, setting in motion an endless sequence of negotiations and preparations. His father had insisted on an "unbreakable" entail agreement, which Robert had presented to his fiancée with some embarrassment. Once the legalities were complete, he took no interest in the wedding planning. He felt he had been coerced into marrying someone he barely knew.

_"I, Cora Mary, take thee, Robert Albert Edward, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse: for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; to love, cherish and obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth."_

Cora Levinson was marrying to 'shed the embarrassment of a fortune made in dry goods'. Her father and grandfather had made their wealth through hard work and good luck. Class and credibility could only be achieved through marriage to a noble family. Thus, at least as far as her mother was concerned, there was never any question of her marrying anyone _but _an English aristocrat. Unfortunately, Cora had found all her mother's preferences insufferably arrogant and condescending.

Robert was different. He wasn't her family's choice - he was _her _choice. She had immediately spotted him in the crowded London ballroom. His tall frame and broad shoulders meant he suited the formal evening wear perfectly. He didn't try to charm her or talk down to her. He was refreshingly honest and down-to-earth, and that mixture of self-depreciating wit and old-fashioned chivalry was so endearingly _English._

She also recognised how shy and reserved he could be. So when he crossed the Atlantic the following spring, she looked after him - showing him round her native city, introducing him to society, engaging him in conversation. She wasn't naive enough to think that he loved her, but she hope they would grow to need and care for each other.

_...thereto have given and pledged their troth, each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving a Ring, and by joining hands ; I pronounce that they are Man and Wife."_

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><p><em><strong>Marriage vows from 1871 Book of Common Prayer<strong>_


	2. Chapter 2

_It's much too early. If it were any other night, she would have rung for something to help her sleep - a warm drink or a book. She searches for something to pass the time, finally walking over to the bay windows on one side of the room. Leaning against the window frame, she hugs her arms to her chest and looks out at the formal gardens. Her father had personally overseen their design and creation. She fondly remembered the weeks and months he had spent choosing every element - an endless assortment of fountains, pools, statues, arbours..._

_Robert's sole comment had been a terse "I'm not sure the different styles work together." Only her mother had looked vaguely pleased._

_"That man is an open book darling," she commented to Cora later. "Not exactly a bad trait for a husband."_

_Yes, Robert's expressions were already easy to read. She always noticed the slight frown and tensing of his jaw after each perceived "faux pas". She only hoped his mood would lighten when he returned to England. _

_She looks down at the new ring adorning her finger and back at the gardens, brilliantly lit tonight to celebrate her wedding. She tries to imprint the scene on her mind. Given Robert's antipathy to anything vaguely "American," she doubts she'll be back for a long time._

_She had wanted the change in the status and the excitement of a new life. Most of all, she wanted to put an end to her mother's persistent interference and nagging._

She had wanted this._ And Robert had been her choice. Why then was it so hard to let go?_

_She turns her back to the window, swallowing the lump in her throat._

_The room is another product of her mother's trip to Versailles - less a bedroom, more a palatial chamber. Bright yellow walls and drapes clash horribly with the dark woods and Louis XV furnishings. She had pleaded not to be given this room, telling her Robert would hate it, that it would just confirm his already dire estimations of American tastes..._

_Her mother had been right in the end - the room didn't matter. (_He won't be looking at the room, darling._) He had barely noticed his surroundings tonight._

_She walks slowly back to the empty bed, remembering what they had been doing barely an hour before. It wasn't as painful as she had been led to believe. Certainly uncomfortable and awkward, but not unpleasant. If she had been more relaxed, she may have even enjoyed the gentle kisses, the feeling of his silk shirt against her hand and their bodies pressed close together._

_As soon as it was over, he had moved off the bed and reached for his dressing gown. A brief kiss, a hasty good night...and he was gone. No doubt he was asleep in his dressing room by now. His aristocratic duties, she reflected bitterly, clearly did not extend to staying with her, or even talking to her._

_She climbed back into the bed. She missed his presence in the bed, which was far too big for one person. She yearned for the warm, comforting feeling of his arms wrapped round her, pulling her to his chest. She curled up, pulled the blankets round her and let the tears fall._

_She cried herself to sleep._

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><p>AN: Sorry - didn't mean it to be quite this angsty. It does get better (eventually)!


	3. Chapter 3

The carriage trotted through the front gates of the Downton estates and sped on through the parklands and farmland. Inside the carriage was a nervous Lady Cora Crawley. She knew this day had been coming ever since she married Lord Grantham's heir. Their courtship and wedding in America seemed literally a world away now. She could only guess at the curiosity she would evoke as Robert's "American wife".

She looked round at her husband. He was staring intently out of the window, as if inspecting the grounds for any changes in his absence. She smiled to herself. She knew he had missed Downton, and felt strangely envious that he was returning home when she had left hers for good. She thought back to their honeymoon. His manners had been impeccable and he was never less than kind and considerate. Yet he had been distant and irritable. She had hoped his mood would improve when they arrived back in England and sure enough, he seemed happier as soon as he got off the boat.

"Glad to be back?"

He turned round apologetically. "It will certainly be nice to get back to normal." He had never been happier to return home after months - too long - spent in the United States. After the wedding, it had seemed sensible to stay and honeymoon on the East Coast. In hindsight, it wasn't a good idea. He had never felt at ease in London society, let alone a country where he knew no one and where the normal rules of propriety seemed relaxed. He abhorred the over-familiarity and the ostentatious, vulgar displays of wealth. Every day in America was a day away from the simple pleasures and certainties of Downton.

Cora had done everything expected of her, even putting up with his moods with gentle good humour. Even so, their honeymoon had been awkward. They didn't really know each other, resulting in polite formality rather than romance. Even their attempts at conversation were difficult when they didn't know the same people or places.

"You should see the house round the next bend."

She looked up, surprised by what she saw - an imposing fortress set rather incongruously amid the parks and follies. So _this _was Downton Abbey, her new home, the home which her husband cared so deeply about, and which her inheritance would maintain. She peered at the imposing towers and flag fluttering in the breeze, trying to remember the exhaustive descriptions Robert had given when in America. (Her mind had wandered by the time he reached the architectural details.) It looked like the centrepiece of a medieval kingdom, a kingdom of which she would one day be queen.

He was watching her reaction. "It's certainly impressive," she managed somewhat breathlessly.

He had to smile. It was the first time he had seen her speechless. His eyes drifted from the familiar view to risk a sweeping glance at his wife. She was, as always, immaculately turned out. Their wedding announcement had seemingly necessitated a huge trousseau (her mother insisting on copious furs as soon as she learned Downton was in the north of England). He enjoyed the secret thrill of seeing the results each morning and evening.

The carriage stopped outside the entrance to his family home. Robert stepped down eagerly. He beamed at the assembled family and staff, then turned to help his wife.

She took a deep breath to steady herself before taking his hand. She could feel the curious eyes of the staff watching her as she descended.

"My father, Lord Grantham."

"Welcome to Downton." Lord Grantham greeted them both warmly, although she noticed the knowing smile that passed between father and son.

Robert paused before continuing. He had been dreading the next meeting. "My mother, Lady Grantham." Sure enough, his mother looked Cora up and down like a creature from another world.

"Welcome to Downton." The welcome was forced, and Cora's resolve wilted under her new mother-in-law's imperious glare."I do hope you will fit in here." Lady Grantham's tone clearly indicated her doubts. With one nod, the family was beckoned inside.

Cora had never felt more foreign, more out of place.

_It was not a good beginning._


	4. Chapter 4

Cora was looking forward to her first dinner at Downton. She longed for company and conversation after spending a lonely afternoon wandering the grounds, encountering no one except the odd deferential gardener. Robert had left her soon after their arrival - he needed to inspect the estates and talk to staff and tenants, seemingly so essential after a month's absence.

Cora's new maid helped her with the jewellery that would complete her evening outfit. One of the stipulations of Cora's marriage settlement was a new, French maid, Larochelle, expertly trained in the very best of hairdressing, jewellery and fashion. Looking in the mirror now, Cora was delighted with Larochelle's creation. She wore a shimmering silk evening dress set off with tiny crystals and metallic threads. Cora smiled fondly as she remembered the deliberations over her trousseau and her mother's insistence that Cora should have the very best. Cora wished her mother could see her now. A knock on the door brought Cora back to reality. She turned round to her husband, noticing with a smile how well he suited his white tie and tails.

Robert was in good spirits. He had spent an enjoyable afternoon in the sunshine and was reassured that everything at Downton was as it should be. He looked forward to making the improvements his wife's fortune would purchase. As he entered his wife's room, Robert was surprised to see Cora's attire. She looked like she had come from a Parisian ballroom (or worse). The shimmering fabric and crystals caught the light, reminding Robert of a Christmas decoration. He had agreed to the French maid – after Cora's family's concessions on everything else, it seemed churlish to deny her own choice of maid. Yet Parisian maids seemed best suited to Paris, certainly not an English family dinner. On seeing his wife's smiling face, he decided against making any suggestions. He didn't want to upset her and anyway, his own ignorance of female attire meant he had no alternative ideas to offer. Robert resolved instead to speak to the maid tomorrow.

"I didn't realise we were on stage." Lady Grantham looked stunned. She held up a hand as if to shield her eyes. "Are you sure those crystals are safe?"

Cora was aghast. After spending so much time selecting and perfecting her outfit, she was shocked that it was so unsuitable. Why hadn't Robert warned her? She felt incredibly self-conscious as Robert's father, trying to disguise a smile, led her into the dining room.

It did not get better when they were seated. Lord Grantham's announcement of a dinner party to introduce her to the community and family was met with met with disdain. "I look forward to the next outfit."

Lady Grantham seemed to use every opportunity to criticise her. Cora was beginning to see why Robert had left his mother out of their wedding plans, with the now characteristic understatement that his mother was merely "very conservative." She looked towards Robert, who was telling his father about his experiences on the estate this afternoon. Cora decided to placate her mother-in-law herself.

"I take it you don't like my attire. That can always be changed. I'm a fast leaner."

"Learn?" Lady Grantham looked affronted. "One does not learn the ways of the English gentry, my dear. One is born into the aristocracy and imbibes its values from the nursery onwards."

Cora tried again. "Nevertheless, I chose to come here. Therefore I will learn."

"Of course you wish to live at Downton, although I question your how easily you can dispose of parents and country in the process."

Cora took a gulp of wine, not used to such an onslaught. She looked over to Robert and his father, still deep in conversation. They didn't seem shocked by, or even to notice, Lady Grantham's witticisms. It was as if they were a normal part of life.

A new reality was beginning to dawn. She felt unwanted. She felt that, despite her efforts, fitting in was not possible because of who she was and what she represented –America, new money, new blood . She felt alone in an alien family where she was nothing but provider.

Cora now did something which she would never have dreamed of in New York. "Excuse me. I have something of a headache."

Violet, Lady Grantham watched Cora leave. She turned to her husband.

"I suppose you're glad to see your plan come to fruition. That American arriviste will one day be lording it over Downton."

Lord Grantham sighed wearily. "My dear, without the American arriviste, there would be no Downton to lord over."

"I must check Cora is alright." Robert was glad to get away. He was tired of the by now familiar argument between his parents.

Robert knocked and entered his wife's room. Cora was in her underclothes, having swiftly stepped out of _that_ dress. "I'm sorry..."Robert licked his lips and got his breath back. He felt like he was a naughty schoolboy.

"No, come in." Cora swiftly dismissed her maid and turned round to him, clearly bemused at his embarrassment. She couldn't resist coming closer to him.

If Robert felt awkward before, he was seriously embarrassed now. She was close enough to reach out and touch. He could smell her perfume.

"I came to see how you were."

Cora smiled and raised her eyebrows, making it quite clear that she was well. "I can see why you haven't mentioned your mother before now."

He rolled his eyes. "She's just smarting that she wasn't consulted in my choice of wife. She will come round." Robert spoke more in hope than expectation.

"And in the meantime, I just have to put up with her rudeness."

"My mother isn't going to change, Cora." Robert felt uneasy with Cora criticisng his mother, however valid the criticisms.

"No, but I would appreciate your support. Why didn't you warn me the dress was too much?"

Robert turned away, exasperated. "Fashion is hardly my forte," he snapped.

"If you had even an inkling what your mother's reaction would be-"

"It is not my job to dress you!" Cora jumped at Robert's sudden burst of temper. Noticing Cora's reaction, he lowered his voice. "We'll talk in the morning. Good night."

Robert left the room, not waiting to hear Cora's hasty "Good night." He wasn't used to being questioned, not least by his wife. He was glad to get back to his own room. He was missing his own bed, his own valet, his own space.


	5. Chapter 5

Cora stood in the Great Hall of Downton Abbey, wondering how many Earls and Countesses of Grantham had stood in her place. Would she fit in here? Would her portrait ever adorn the walls? She looked up at the pointed gothic arches, heraldic symbols and hammerbeam roof. It was exactly how she expected an English castle to look, but she wasn't sure she could ever call it "home".

A footman was studying at her gravely. Even the footmen disapprove of me, thought Cora. She didn't know where she was expected to go or what the daily routine was. She walked towards the Library, with a vague plan of looking for Robert. Unfortunately, her knowledge of the house's geography let her down. She found herself in the drawing room, where the first person encountered was not her husband, but his mother, who greeted her with an imperious "Good morning."

"Good morning. Um, I was looking for Robert. I thought…"

"Robert and Lord Grantham are in the Library," Lady Grantham paused for effect, "with Allan." Cora frowned. Allan was the Grantham Accountant who had played a large role in the marriage negotiations. What was he doing in the Library? Lady Grantham answered Cora's unspoken question:

"They are discussing how best to dispose of your money. You can wait for them here."

It was more of an order than a request. Cora sat down reluctantly. She thought about the entail documents she had readily signed, despite her parents' misgivings. She had been brought up to marry an European nobleman, preferably English. She wasn't naïve enough to think her fortune would not form part of the settlement, yet she expected to have some say in how it was spent. Lady Grantham noticed Cora's disquiet. For the first time, she spoke kindly to her.

"I bear no malice towards you, my dear. It's just that you've been placed in a very difficult position for which you have no training or experience. The aristocracy was established and governing in England before your homeland was even discovered. Our ways are not simply learned or picked up."

Cora remembered her father's opinions of the English aristocracy - "not an ounce of common sense or initiative between them" and "if they're the so-called elite why do they need New World money to bail them out?". Cora didn't reply but her sceptical smile betrayed her feelings.

Voices in the Hall indicated the meeting in the Library had ended. Lady Grantham swiftly stood up and left, leaving Cora alone. She heard the exchange of pleasantries and thanks, interrupted by Lady Grantham's shrill voice:

"Is everything settled, then?"

"New farm equipment has been ordered and we've arranged an endowment for the village school."

"We did not turn the world upside down for the village school!"

Cora was now desperate to find her husband. She went out into the Hall to look for him.

"Sorry - was Robert with you?"

Lord Grantham turned round. "He's gone for a walk in the gardens - you should catch him up, he's just left."

Cora hurried out, taking the footman by surprise as he rushed to open the main front door. She heard her mother-in-law's voice as she left:

"I do hope they won't quarrel publicly."

"It's lucky I have a sense of irony, my dear."

After Allen's carriage left, Robert stayed outside. He walked up the familiar path towards Downton's gardens. He need the fresh air and exercise to quell his unease. He knew his father was satisfied - Downton was now saved for the foreseeable future. He could leave his own mark on the estate and be the benevolent landlord he so wanted to be. Yet Cora certainly didn't figure in those plans, and Robert's conscience was bothering him.

The only thing Robert knew about Cora when he married her was the size of her dowry. He discovered on his honeymoon that he had married a spirited, worldly young women who had clearly chosen him for reasons other than his title. She seemed to have such romantic expectations for him which he feared he couldn't fulfil. And now he had met this morning to spend her inheritance. It seemed somehow wrong and deceitful, yet he didn't want to disappoint his father or shatter his grandiose dreams.

Robert heard footsteps behind him. He stopped and turned round, surprised to see the object of his thoughts hurrying towards him. He noticed after yesterday how simply she was dressed in a grey jacket and skirt. He felt strangely disappointed.

"Cora! To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Cora stopped to get her breath back. "I was looking for you."

"Well, you've found me." Robert wondered whether Cora had been told of this morning's meeting.

"You met Allen this morning." Cora spoke carefully and calmly, not wanting to anger Robert after he stormed out last night.

"Yes." His short, curt answer told her not to continue.

"Your father said you set up an endowment for the village school."

Robert didn't respond, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. He looked straight ahead, wishing the conversation would finish.

Cora knew her fortune was destined for Downton's upkeep, yet she was becoming increasingly frustrated. "My father built a racecourse in New York. He named it after himself - the Levinson Racecourse! You probably think that incredibly vulgar."

Robert scoffed. "There's no place for a racecourse at Downton."

Cora sighed. Robert clearly had no intention of telling her the plans for her money. She was beginning to recognise Robert's moods now and knew that to continue would involve another argument. Yet she didn't want the conversation to end. In desperation, Cora looked round for something to talk about. "The trees are very distinctive." Cora felt silly even as she said it. "Are they a special kind of tree?"

"They're Cedar of Lebanon trees. My great -grandfather brought them the seeds back after a trip to the Middle East."

"And these are the same trees he brought back?"

"Oh yes. They can grow for thousands of years. Some of the Cedar trees in Lebanon have been there since biblical times."

With Cora's encouragement, Robert showed her around the rest of the estate, introducing her to the outdoor staff and telling her the history of every garden, folly and fishing lake. They ended the walk sat on a bench looking across the lawns. Robert reached his arm across, delicately tracing circles on her shoulder with his thumb. For the first time since she arrived at Downton, Cora felt warm, safe and comfortable. She had enjoyed her husband's company today, delighting in his enthusiasm for Downton. Everything else, she thought, could wait.

When Robert spoke, it was almost a whisper. "I've no desire to see the world, or accomplish great deeds. I'm content to live here at Downton. It's more than an house to me. I want to be its custodian, to look after it, improve it and pass it onto the next generation."

Cora was beginning to see why Robert had married her. He was in love, not with her, but with a house.

_Note: Married women always had breakfast in bed, hence Robert and his father could talk over breakfast without being disturbed, then move to the Library for main meeting._


	6. Chapter 6

"Have you had a good day, milord?" Watson asked as he selected the cufflinks to go with Lord Robert's evening attire. The valet already knew the answer - he knew how much his master had been looking forward to the Saturday to Monday shooting party.

"Very good. The pheasants turned out in force for us today." Robert chuckled at his own joke.

A knock at the door could only be his wife. Suppressing a sigh, he beckoned her inside. He noticed his valet's sympathetic expression as he swiftly left them. Robert looked at her expectantly.

"How was your day?" she asked.

"Thirty-nine birds," Robert grinned at her.

Cora watched him from the doorway, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at his tally. She had been looking forward to the shooting party. It seemed a respite from her boredom and loneliness. Yet while Robert had gone out with the guns, she had been stuck in a drawing room with Robert's female relations. She had to see her husband now, even if it was only a brief moment before dinner. "Apparently, I'm leading you astray," she said flatly.

Robert couldn't resist smiling at the absurdity, yet stopped when he realised she wasn't smiling back at him. He struggled to put the cufflinks on with one hand. Sighing in frustration, Cora went over to help him. "I've been given explicit advice concerning my duty to produce the next Earl of Grantham." She looked at him knowingly and he winced. "And…I've been treated to your family's experiences my homeland - apparently a combination of the Wild West and a burlesque show."

He smiled sympathetically, taking her hands. She had obviously had quite a day. "I know certain members of my family can be insensitive," he said gently. "I can only apologise on their behalf." She wasn't reassured. "They'll be gone tomorrow," he tried again.

"It's not just that, is it?" Her husband looked mystified. "I hardly see you."

He heaved a sigh and dropped her hands. "It's not my job to entertain you, Cora."

She recognised the beginnings of anger and frustration in his tone. "Of course not, but your company would be nice." She tried a weak smile.

"So, that's it is it? I'm to leave the guns and keep you company." He turned away from her. He was beginning to think his mother was right - an American would never settle in at Downton. "I know in America-"

"I didn't expect to be ignored at luncheon today."

He knew she would bring that up. He _should_ have paid her more attention at luncheon, especially with most of his family observing him closely. Yet he had been so gratified to have male company and genuine debate rather than the usual stilted conversations and nagging. He grudgingly conceded her point, yet she_ still _hadn't finished.

"And a little support would be nice, rather than facing your mother and your family on my own."

"I've never argued with my parents, Cora. I don't intend to start now." Robert remembered something his father had said to him. "Mama will come round, and you just need to get used to our way of life."

"_Get used to our way of life?" _She spat it back at him. "Do you realise how patronising that sounds? So that's it, is it, the future Earl of Grantham who can't stand up to his own mother? Of course, if you really cared for me…" She blinked back tears.

"Cora-" he reached for her hand. He watched her turn round and walk out, then sat wearily on the bed. His elation from the day's shooting was replaced by a strange, nagging feeling of guilt.

Cora was calm and composed by the time she sat down to dinner. She was, for once, glad that she wouldn't be sitting next to her husband. She was dismayed to be placed instead between her father-in-law and Robert's cousin James. James had been best man at their wedding, and as far as she was concerned, represented the very worst of English aristocracy. He had made it quite clear that he considered he considered himself superior to new "American money". She also vividly remembered his lewd comments to Robert when they were engaged.

"It must be quite a culture shock coming to Downton, after New York," James began. Cora didn't reply. She had already heard something similar that morning and had run out of polite replies. "I mean, a house with a real history, compared to over-sized classical villas stuffed with unnecessary luxuries and modern trends?"

"I wouldn't class pluming and central heating as unnecessary." She remembered her maid's daily complaints about the lack of running water at Downton.

"Of course, _American _houses can hardly be ruined, can they?" James smiled condescendingly at her. "But Downton has managed without so far-"

She rolled her eyes. "I don't understand the English fear of modern technology and convenience. Everything was new and modern at some point. Perhaps you would like to go back to the 18th century, before steam trains, servants bells, gas lighting-"

"I just want things to stay as they are." Lady Grantham chipped in. "Why cause unnecessary inconvenience and danger with new-fangled modern technology?"

"Oh Mama," Robert's sister intervened. "You can't stop progress. Marmaduke has installed modern plumbing in Eaton Square. It's so much more-"

"It certainly won't happen here." Lord Grantham turned round, finally interjecting to bring an end to the conversation. "Downton hasn't stood for 200 years to be ruined by modern curiosities ."

Cora was determined to have the last word. "I wouldn't class plumbing a modern curiosity. There are houses in New York which date back 200 years, yet they still have-"

Lord Grantham scoffed at his daughter-in-law. "Are you seriously comparing farmsteads and military outposts to Downton and the other great English houses?"

Cora took a gulp from her wine glass. She didn't dare continue. She could feel Robert staring at her, yet didn't meet his eye. No doubt he would scold her later for "causing a scene." When the ladies separated, she slipped discretely upstairs. She would deal with the repercussions (from Robert's mother, no doubt) in the morning.

"Good night, milord."

His valet gone, Robert stood alone in his dressing room. He thought about the conversation at dinner. He was impressed that Cora had stood up to his family. A small part of him wondered whether she was right - maybe he should have offered her more support. He pushed open the connecting door to his wife's room. He was disappointed to find the room already dark. He stood in the doorway, nervously wondering what to do, when the room was suddenly illuminated.

Having turned the light on for him, Cora lay back down and turned her head away from him. She didn't want him to see her red eyes. The talk at dinner had made her homesick for a home she had once been desperate to leave. True, her parents had interfered remorselessly and never given her a moment to herself, but she missed them dreadfully now.

Robert climbed into bed and reached awkwardly for her hand. He searched for something to break the silence. "I'm not sure modern technology would really suit Downton." he began. "Maybe in London…" He trailed off. His father would never allow it.

Cora sighed and rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter." She turned the light off and turned round, weary of the tears and arguments. She was very aware of the him next to her, his hand still clutching hers. She had yearned for his affections all week, yet now he was here, all she wanted to do was sleep.

Robert watched her in concern. He tentatively moved closer and draped his arm round her. He was gratified when she relaxed into his embrace, putting her arm over his to keep it there. He kissed her softly. He would, he promised himself, make a greater effort from now on.

_He would do better._


	7. Chapter 7

"Good morning." Robert breezed into his wife's room with a smile and the briefest of knocks.

"Good morning." Cora looked up from her dressing table, watching him in the mirror. She couldn't quite hide her surprise and irritation. She had come to cherish the peace and solitude of her morning rituals. Without them, she wasn't sure she could ever face the day. Yet her husband now stood in the middle of her bedroom, smiling broadly.

"Mama missed you at breakfast this morning."

Cora's heart sank. The expression on his face had promised so much more than a scolding. "I doubt that very much," she replied coolly, returning to sorting through her jewellery.

"You were the only one not to appear." He chose his next words carefully, trying to tone down his mother's angry accusations. "And coupled with leaving dinner early last night, Mama is...somewhat annoyed. So I've been sent here to escort you downstairs to see our guests off." He held out his hand.

She turned round to look at him now. She could well imagine what his mother had said to him, yet he didn't seem angry. His tone had been mocking and he was still smiling broadly, almost conspiratorially at her. She nodded at him as her maid hurried in with a hairnet and pins. "I won't be long."

He dropped his hand and suppressed an irritated sigh. He knew their guests would be waiting and his mother would justifiably complain about the delay. He moved to the corner of the room and resigned himself to staring out the window in an attempt at distraction.

"_En chignon. Oui, comme ça."_ Cora had found that a little direction to her maid in French usually produced better results, yet she noticed the nervous glances to the brooding figure at the window. She didn't blame Larochelle for being nervous, and mentally cursed Robert for interrupting their usually calming morning routine.

Robert watched the two women from the corner of his eye, becoming increasingly impatient at the time taken to create a seemingly simple hairstyle. After a number of false starts, Cora's hair was finally piled in place and her maid reached for the pins to secure it. She knocked the box over with her sleeve, spilling the hairpins over the dressing table. He sighed in exasperation as both women scrambled to pick them up. Unable to watch any longer, he turned round, keeping his eyes shut until the blasted maid was finally dismissed. As soon as Larochelle left the room, he quickly vented his frustration

"Why do you put up with her, especially if you're not wearing French fashions? You could do better..."

"I would get ready a lot quicker if you didn't intimidate her."

"You would get ready a lot quicker _without _her.

"She's trying."

"She certainly-" He checked himself. Today was about a new beginning, about making amends and making Cora happy. He was not going to risk that on a trivial quarrel.

She stood up and stepped closer to him, waiting for him now. He studied her, letting his eyes wander and his thoughts travel a long way from maids and hairstyles.

"You look nice," he whispered.

Cora wasn't used to adoration or compliments from him, let alone this piercing stare. She turned her head away, flushed and momentarily speechless.

Robert smiled, pleased at the effect he was having. He walked over, took her hand and kissed the palm, noticing her sharp intake of breath as he did so. "Mama will be waiting for us."

She nodded at him, her breath catching in her throat. His eyes met hers and for a brief moment she expected him to kiss her. Instead he entwined his fingers tightly with hers and led her out the room. His thumb stroked the back of her hand and he was still so _close..._she was glad when they reached the staircase and he took her arm in a more familiar pose.

"I've ordered the carriage. When the guests have gone, I thought we could take a picnic luncheon to a little hill fort not far from here." He had made the decision last night, planning to get her out of Downton, away from the familiar annoyances that come from his parents, the staff, the daily routine.

"I'm sorry, darling. I'm paying calls with Rosamund." She spoke with genuine regret.

He rolled his eyes. He had forgotten Rosamund was staying an extra few days. He shouldn't have been surprised she had planned an afternoon with Cora, to "get to know her better" no doubt. "Another time, then." At least, he thought, she looked suitably disappointed.

Cora removed her outer garments and sat at her dressing table, pondering the afternoon's calls. She remembering Rosamund's searching questions and pregnant pauses, expecting Cora to fill in the gaps. She had met many Rosamunds in New York - women who could assess you in one sweeping glance, with the self-assurance that came from never being challenged. Cora had no intention of disclosing secrets, certainly not to Robert's sister.

She had been surprised at just how highly Robert was regarded locally. Indeed, she seemed to gain extra credibility and respect simply from being Lord Robert's wife. She thought back to this morning, remembering with a smile how romantic and chivalrous he had been. Tonight, she decided, she would show him how much she appreciated his efforts.

She rang the bell, looking forward to a long soak in the bath before dinner.

"Milady."

Cora turned round. She saw a young girl - stern and severe and distinctly _English. _She thought she recognised her as one of the housemaids.

"Where's Larochelle?" she asked suspiciously.

"Her Ladyship asked me to attend to you instead." Definitely English, thought Cora, and far too sure of herself. "I'm Sarah, milady."

"So where's _my _maid?" Cora repeated sharply.

"Her Ladyship said that it wasn't working."

Anger got the better of Cora then. She had raced out of the room and into the drawing room before she knew what she was sensibly doing:

"How dare you dismiss my lady's maid without consulting me?"

Lady Grantham held up a hand. "She was causing a lot of upset downstairs. We thought an English maid might help you settle in better."

"So you bullied her into leaving?"

"We gave her a trial, my dear. It didn't work." Lady Grantham was formal and unemotional in the face of Cora's anger. "She thought she could get a position closer to her family in Paris, so we came to an arrangement which would be better for all concerned. The poor girl was dreadfully homesick."

Cora scoffed. "She wasn't homesick when _I _left her this morning."

Lady Grantham regarded her coolly and calmly. "Larochelle wasn't settling in or learning English." Her tone suggested this was clearly Cora's fault. "I saw no reason to prolong her stay any longer. Robert felt a new maid would help _you _settle in better, and Sarah is extremely promising. Now, if you will excuse me."

She left Cora standing alone in the drawing room. _Robert felt a new maid would help you settle in better._ She thought back to his annoyance with Larochelle this morning. He had, she realised with a heavy heart, conspired with his mother to get rid of her maid.

Robert returned to the house refreshed and invigorated from his afternoon's ride. He went straight to his wife's room. She was lying on the chaise longue, idly flicking through a book. She seemed strangely subdued. He perched on the end of the chaise longue and looked at her. "Are you getting changed for dinner?"

She looked up, setting the book down and studying him. "Why did you tell your mother to get rid of Larochelle?"

"I didn't."

"You said a new maid would help me settle." He did look genuinely puzzled, thought Cora. Perhaps her mother-in-law had been mistaken.

"I..." Cora watched him as he thought back to this morning. What _had _he said to his mother? He had certainly given Larochelle as the excuse for their lateness. "I didn't tell Mama to get rid of her."

She saw the expression on his face and knew he wasn't telling her everything. "So what _did_ you say?"

He searched back. He remembered complaining to his mother, telling her about the whole episode this morning, from Cora having to use French to spilling the hair pins. Yet...he had been annoyed. He never expected Mama to dismiss the maid.

He met Cora's eye. She was waiting for an answer. "I said you could do better."

"And what right did you have, Robert?" Her voice was choked, yet she was determined not to break down in front of him. She sat up. "It's the one element of control I have and you wrench it away."

"But I didn't tell Mama to get rid of her," he pleaded.

"Then you were incredibly naive." She raised her voice, giving in to anger rather than tears. "What did you expect your mother to do?"

He had no answer to that. He tried to placate her. "It's certainly very sudden."

Her tone was cold and bitter. "After one talk with your mother, anyone sane would pack their bags and leave. It's clearly what she wants me to do."

"_I_ don't." He reached for her hand, trying to apologise and make amends.

She dismissed him with a sharp shake of her head, getting up to walk away. She didn't want his touch, not when her feelings towards him were so confused and conflicted. "And now she's assigned one of the housemaids..."

"Mama's got a good eye for spotting potential. She will have chosen a replacement carefully." He came closer to her, trying to put his hands on her arms and sighing in frustration when she shrugged them off.

"So she can have her creature, reporting to her."

"Oh for heaven's sake! You're being paranoid, Cora." His frustration got the better of him. What did she want him to do? Every attempt he made to console her was rejected. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to speak calmly and gently. "I agree Mama was over-hasty. She should have consulted you. But Larochelle isn't coming back and maybe it's for the best. We can always advertise for a replacement if you want." He watched her. She hadn't responded to him, merely staring at the carpet, arms hugging her chest. "Are you getting changed for dinner?"

She shook her head. Getting dressed, accepting the new maid and smiling sweetly at her mother-in-law seemed somehow like a defeat.

He raised his eyes to the ceiling. He knew if Cora wasn't at dinner tonight his mother would march straight upstairs to remind her of her "responsibilities" and God knows what else..."Get changed," he ordered. "Whatever you do, don't give Mama any more ammunition." He rang the bell and left her alone.

Once in the privacy of his dressing room, he put his head in his hands and cursed, trying to make sense of what had happened.

_How could a day begun with such good intentions have gone so badly wrong?_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Sorry this fic took so long to continue - I've really struggled to write "fluffy" Cora/Robert! Anyway, I've added an (angsty) Chapter 2, revised this chapter and added a fluffy Chapter 9. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Robert stood on the banks of the lake, watching the winter sun reflecting off its surface. He had always come here as a boy when his mother had scolded him or his sister had got the better of him. He used to take a fishing rod then but nowadays he gave up any pretence of fishing and just came to admire the view. He looked round at the silhouettes of the bare trees and the scattered patches of snow. Spotting a solitary moorhen on the lake, he watched it advance across the icy waters.<p>

He appreciated the stillness and calmness of the lake, especially today. It had been his idea to entrust the Christmas decorating to Cora, resulting in endless disagreements between his wife and mother, as well as the seemingly constant arrival of ornamental winter scenes, baubles, toys, candles...His interjections were invariably met with his mother's sharp wit and Cora's discreet roll of the eyes.

In many ways, he was lucky. Cora had settled into life at Downton remarkably well, quickly picking up all their little rules and customs. She made mistakes, yes, but she never made the same mistake twice. He had watched from afar her at dinner parties as she worked the room, drawing people into conversation and eliciting smiles and laughter. She makes the perfect hostess, he thought - he knew their guests now came to Downton for her company, certainly not for his mother's acerbic wit.

She didn't argue with him anymore and let him continue in much the same way as before they were married. He should be happy. Yet he knew he had lost her trust and affection. He wished he could go back to those early weeks and months when she had tried to get to know him and earn his love. He hadn't appreciated it then and had pushed her away. Now she didn't even try talking. His small attempts at kindness were met with a puzzled, even bemused frown.

He shivered and pulled his overcoat tighter. Finally relenting to the winter weather, he trudged slowly back to the house.

* * *

><p>"Speak to Robert."<p>

"Excuse me?" Cora hadn't been surprised when the Countess sought her out...again. She was used to the countless instructions and orders, but this one was new and unexpected.

"He's been withdrawn and unhappy lately." She stared meaningfully at Cora.

Cora sighed wearily. How did Lady Grantham (she had no intention of calling her _Mama_) manage to make everything sound like a personal failing? At least, thought Cora, she could not be blamed for the current situation. She had spent a lot of time trying to capture her husband's attention, until she finally realised that what he sought most was simply to be left alone. She didn't know what to think of him anymore but she was afraid of being rejected again. Cora replied with a calm civility which she didn't feel:

"I think you're crossing the line between public and private."

"I simply wish to see my son happy," Lady Grantham looked directly at Cora now. "I believe you do too?"

"Robert has exactly what he wanted," replied Cora bitterly. She didn't want to talk about her husband and her marriage, and certainly not with the person who had been responsible for most of their disagreements.

"Assuming, of course, that Robert knows what he wants."

"If that's really the case, then how can I-"

Lady Grantham dismissed the objection with a wave of her hand. "My dear, he's never been good with affairs of the heart. He's always floundered in situations where there's no clear etiquette." The next words were sincere and kind. "My objections to your marriage never had anything to do with you personally. He does need you, my dear."

When she left, Cora allowed herself to think about Robert and his mother's counsel. She shouldn't have been surprised Lady Grantham would instruct her on something so personal. What was unexpected was what she had actually said..._never been good with affairs of the heart...floundered in situations where there's no clear etiquette._ She thought of all the times he had been unsure or nervous around her, and all the times he had been astonishingly thoughtful and considerate.

She recalled a recent conversation, late at night in her room. The lovemaking was slow and gentle. Afterwards, he had had held her close, whispering into the dark:

"I want us to get on."

"Of course," she replied immediately.

"No...I mean more than just being civil."

She had hesitated. She couldn't bring herself to utter another empty platitude. She knew for every time he was like kind and romantic like this, there were also times when he was morose and bad-tempered and times when she just didn't trust him to do the right thing. Before she could formulate a reply, he had abruptly got up, grabbed his dressing gown and left.

The voices in the Hall brought her back to the present. She took a deep breath and went out to meet him.

He greeted her with a tight smile, which she quickly reciprocated.

"You look frozen." His cheeks were pink from the cold and his jacket was still damp from the snow and ice. She resisted the instinctive desire to warm him up with a hug.

"It's certainly bracing," he nodded, handing the valet his winter clothes.

"Where did you go?"

"Just a walk around the fishing lake." He was defensive, waiting for the inevitable question - why he would even contemplate going for a walk in this weather.

_This was clearly not a good time. _It was obvious she was keeping him from a hot bath and fresh clothes, and she hadn't even thought about what to say.

"I'm surprised the lake's not frozen over," she managed.

"Not quite." He tried to ignore the uncomfortable dampness soaking through his clothes. "We might get an ice rink in time for Christmas."

"The Lake in Central Park is partially drained each year. Apparently, it helps the remaining water to freeze."

He looked at her in wide-eyed horror. He was about to protest sharply when he noticed the raised eyebrows and playful smirk. He smiled ruefully and they both relaxed slightly.

"How are the Christmas decorations coming along?" When he had left this morning, Cora and his mother were in the middle of a disagreement about holly.

"That rather depends who you ask," she replied diplomatically.

He chuckled and looked round, noticing a new candle arch but thankfully no new plants. "Mama can't be allowed everything her own way. And I'm glad you've got rid of the holly. I'm fed up of cutting my fingers on the leaves."

She laughed and their eyes met. Maybe, thought Cora, his mother was right. _He needs you._ She took his cold hand and cradled it between her own to warm him up.

"Let's make this a memorable Christmas, darling."

* * *

><p>Cora sat at the vanity table in her night clothes. She mulled over her idea, wondering whether to follow it through. If she thought about it too much, she would lose her nerve. She walked with purpose and determination to the interconnecting door between their rooms, knocking softly.<p>

Robert looked up from his book. The knock on the door could only be Cora. Yet the last thing he expected to see was his wife stood in the doorway between their two rooms. She looked almost ethereal in a light, thin gown.

"I thought you might need warming up." She stood nervously in the doorway.

His surprise turned to astonishment as he tried to process the words. Had she said what he thought? Had she _meant _what he thought_?_ He looked again. She hadn't moved. Was she waiting for his blessing - his permission - before coming further?

Cora saw his frown and felt the familiar pangs of rejection. Her good idea from only minutes before now seemed an awful misjudgement. She turned round, waiting until the door was fully closed before giving in to tears.

"No, wait!"

They had had far too many misunderstandings and false starts for him to let her go now. He rushed out of bed, flung the door open and snatched up her hand.

"I'm sorry."

Her eyes were wet with tears and he instantly felt remorse. He was sorry for far more than just tonight, for far more than he could possibly articulate. He rested her hand on his shoulder and pulled her slowly into his embrace.

"I'm sorry, my darling."


	9. Chapter 9

**Christmas Day 1889**

Cora looked round the Great Hall, smiling in satisfaction. It looked very different from her first morning at Downton. Every ledge was now dotted with Christmas candles and ornaments; paper chains were strung up around the walls and picture frames. A small, more modestly decorated fir tree stood in one corner - a compromise to Lady Grantham's inexplicable aversion to Christmas trees indoors.

Relations between Cora and her mother-in-law had softened considerably lately. She had, noted Cora, been kindness itself since the doctor's visit a few days ago, even agreeing to keep the news a secret from Robert.

The result was a highly uncomfortable Christmas dinner. She had felt nauseous and eaten very little. Each of Robert's concerned frowns or worried questions had been accompanied by a witty riposte or exaggerated sigh.

He came out the drawing room and walked over to her. It would, she thought, be worth it now - she could give him a very special Christmas present.

"Did you enjoy your first Downton Christmas?" He stroked her arm gently. "You seemed a bit out of sorts."

"I'm perfectly fine, darling."

"I must say, you have excelled yourself with the decorations. And I'm impressed you persuaded Charles to put up the tree."

"Perhaps next year we might have someone else to help," she smiled meaningfully at him.

"Perhaps." He nodded a brief acknowledgment, then changed the subject. "Mama was talking about cancelling the New Year's Eve Ball. She said something about having a rest?"

She sighed in exasperation. "I'm not sure we have to _cancel _anything, although..."

"I quite agree. After all, Christmas is the season for balls and parties." As if to prove his point, he held out his hand with a small smile.

"Robert," she protested feebly, unable to disguise her delight or enthusiasm. "I thought you didn't like to dance."

"Perhaps I've changed." They settled into a familiar slow waltz.

"Do you remember last year?" he asked softly.

"Yes." She knew exactly what he was referring to - the London ballroom where they had first met and danced together.

"I've always wondered why you chose me. There were so many people there that night, and I wasn't even the only peer."

"You were a gentleman. An _English _gentleman." Before he could question her further, she ran her hand down the front of his jacket. "And you looked handsome in a dinner jacket," she whispered.

"I hope I haven't proved a disappointment." He kissed her lips lightly. They were dancing much closer than proprietary allowed. "Cora - I know it hasn't been easy over the last few months. I can only apologise - I should have offered you more support."

She squeezed his hand reassuringly, leaning in to him. She spoke carefully, glad to finally have his full attention. "I am happy, Robert. And I have something to tell you."

She was shocked when he abruptly let go and jumped away in alarm. She turned round - her father-in-law passed them in the Hall on the way to the Library. She expected his reproof, but merely smiled indulgently at them.

Robert waited until the Library door clicked shut. "Cora - what were you going to say?"

"Darling, I'm pregnant."


End file.
